


A Better Reason

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom, Rumbelle Secret Santa - Fandom
Genre: F/M, For munkinette, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: For Rumbelle Secret Santa. Prompt: cold feet, heat of the moment. 
Gold reflects on his feelings for his assistant the day of her wedding and if she may have feelings for him.





	

The bells began to toll out the usual twelve rings for noon. Only thirty more minutes and then Belle French would be Mrs. Gregory Gaston. Roderick Gold did his best to ignore the chimes, but couldn’t help the way his heart sank with every ring. He had known this day was coming and had tried to accept its inevitability, but it was all for naught. He’d known that from the very first day she’d walked into his door and smiled at him. He’d been lost in that very moment.

            He’d known Belle for years. She’d walked into his shop wearing a pretty navy blue sundress and wine colored ridiculously high heels, smiled at him and said, “Hello. I love your shop and I was hoping you might be in need of some help here.”

            He didn’t have a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in his window. In fact, he had been ready to growl out a barely civil, “No”, but one look into those endless blue eyes and every reason why he didn’t need her went out of the window. So, Belle became his first and only assistant. Her father owned the flower shop down the street, so perhaps that was why she always smelled like springtime. She often brought fresh flowers for his shop and even some for his home. Truth of the matter was, he didn’t exactly need an assistant for his pawnshop, though Belle lovingly polished every inch of it, taking special care with the rare books. In the end, he used her more for his second business: party planning.

            Before moving to Storybrook, Gold had been a premier wedding planner and designer in New York. He’d helped plan the weddings and events of movie stars, social divas, even one minor member of royalty. It was a job he’d stumbled into after his divorce while raising his son, Neal. He’d retired and finally fulfilled his dream of opening an antique and pawnshop, but still worked the weddings in the area if the price was right. Belle had proved to be a natural at the job, calming the jittery brides and helping select colors and flowers. On the times they were up all night getting the programs right or finishing the design on the dress, she provided coffee and cheerful conversation to get them through the worst of it. Truth be told, he wondered how he’d ever gone without her.

            Which is why ten months ago when she told him she was getting married, he’d spent the night getting drunk on a fine bottle of scotch one happy father-of-the-bride had given him years ago. He should have seen it coming. She’d been dating the Gaston prick for a year and a half, but he’d selfishly hoped that one day she’d throw the six-foot-nine Neanderthal out on his ear one day. Now that would never be.

            She’d come to him, with that ostentatious ring sparkling on her left hand, and asked him to help her plan her nuptials. “I know you’re the greatest wedding planner,” Belle had said, “Even if you weren’t my friend, I’d still want you to do it.”

            He had never been able to say no to her, even if it broke his heart into a million pieces.

            So he’d done it all. He’d helped her pick her colors (light blue and yellow, the blue matched her eyes perfectly), decide on flowers, even offered up his cabin for their first night together, though the idea turned his stomach. Whoever claimed it was better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all had clearly never been forced to plan the wedding of the object of his desire.

            Moe French was eagerly preparing the flowers, had even come along for the cake tasting. He prattled on about how wonderful Greg was, how charitable his son-in-law was for paying for the wedding. Belle was…quiet. Gold had seen many brides prepare for their wedding, some practically turning into a fire-breathing reptile whenever a bow was askew. Others were so detached from the affair that they never even saw their wedding decorations until they headed down the aisle. Belle went along with every part of the preparations, but only smiled at her options, often saying, “Whatever Greg wants is fine.”

            That should have been his first clue.

            Greg came and went, flashing his checks and snaking an arm around Belle’s waist like she was some sort of trophy he had won. Like most grooms, he knew his job was to look right and say what he was supposed to say, but he talked about the “killer bachelor party” his buddies had planned for him. Every encounter left Gold wondering what Belle saw in the man, other than his obviously good looks.

            He’d kept his mouth shut and set up designing her dress. Truth be told, he’d already had the dress in mind long before she announced her engagement. He’d asked for her input early on, but she’d only smiled at him and said, “I trust you. You’re the master of this.”

            That should have been his second clue.

            It wasn’t until the wine tasting that he finally reached his epiphany. The town of Storybrook didn’t have a winery, so he drove Belle two towns over to the Grapes of Wrath Vineyard and Resort. Belle immediately fell in love with the name and talked about Steinbeck with the owner for an hour before they even moved on to the tasting.

            Gold couldn’t help but wonder if Greg had ever read any of Steinbeck’s novels. Somehow, he doubted it.

            They paid for the largest tasting experience available and even booked rooms at the resort since it was along drive and neither one cared to drive so late. Their server brought out their first bottle, an earthy red. Gold thought it was good, a bit too dry, but pleasant. Belle smiled and said, “It’s good, I know Greg likes a good red.”

            They were given a sweet white with just the hint of sparkle to it. It was very fragrant, and Gold thought it would go well with the cake. He said as much to her, but Belle only smiled again. “Greg might think it’s too sweet.”

            Gold was really getting tired of hearing what Greg would or wouldn’t think. They did both agree that the red blend served next was far too dry. However, the sweet rose they were given had a lovely bouquet. Gold marked down his favorites, but Belle refused to commit to any of them.

            “Do you not like this place?” he asked her after their sixth taste.

            “I’m just not sure what Greg wants is all.”

            “Why does that matter?” he said, unable to suppress the slight growl in his tone.

            “Well, he is paying for it all.”

            “Then perhaps he should have been here, but since he is not, you can decide.”

            “But…”

            “Belle, this is _your_ wedding,” he reminded her, “Decide what _you_ want and not him.”

            Something flashed in Belle’s eyes. She sat up a little straighter, knocked back her glass of white like it was a Jello shot, and wrote it down on her list. Gold blinked at her for a moment before downing his own. “Next, dearie?”

            “Yes,” she said.

            By the end of the evening, they were long past their limit and had started paying for full glasses of wine. They also discovered the owner had pear brandy and bought a bottle of that to share. Soon enough, they had forgotten why they were there and just what they were supposed to be doing. There weren’t enough wine crackers to soak up all that they had drunk.

            “We should have this!” Belle announced, nearly dropping the bottle as she filled her glass again.

            “For what?”

            “Sunday.

            “What’s on Sunday?” Gold asked. He couldn’t remember what was so important about Sunday.

            “I don’t know. Its just Sunday.”       

            They’d both laughed, but they didn’t really understand why. “We should come her again,” Belle said.

            “We can’t,” he said, some of his laughter dying.

            “Why not?”

            “You’re getting married.”

            Belle’s drunken smile falter. “Oh…right. I’m getting married.” She poured more brandy into her glass, “I’m getting married. I’m having to buy wine for three hundred people I don’t know. I’m going to Hawaii for my honeymoon where I’ll burn to a crisp on the beach. I’m moving to a four story house without a library and antlers are on every wall.”

            She took a long drink from her glass before setting it down with a satisfied sigh. “I like this stuff,” she said, “Let’s buy all of this.”

            “Belle…” Gold said her name gently, “Why are you marrying Greg?”

            She looked at him with eyes brightened by liquor, but the words that came out were as sober as ever. “Because I don’t have a reason not to.”

            He wondered about that as they finally stumbled out of the bar and towards the hotel portion of the resort. Belle was usually quite steady on her high heels, but the wine and the rain slicked ground turned that all around. She nearly pitched forward onto the blacktop, but Gold managed to grab her. She laughed gaily, wrapping her arms around him long after she had her feet back. “I can always depend on you, Roderick,” she said, “Always.”

            It had to have been the wine. That was the only explanation for it, but suddenly her lips were pressing against his. Everything went warm and delightfully tingly. He forgot how to breath, how to think, his only sense of time was lost in that perfect moment.

            It was the honk of a car horn that broke them apart. Apparently they were blocking the man from leaving. Belle laughed again and dragged him away towards the hotel, the kiss and all of the questions it presented forgotten.

            “It was the heat of the moment,” he said later when they were both holding their heads over their breakfast the next morning. They never spoke of it. What was the point? She was engaged and he was too much of a coward to even consider the truth.

            He’d seen several cases of brides getting cold feet. Usually they found their way to the altar or wound up having to return all of the expensive gifts. Perhaps that was all with Belle, but she never showed a frenzy to run or reinvest her interests in the wedding. She was going along with the motions, smiling when warranted, and making the necessary decisions. Still her words continued to ring in his ears. _“Because I don’t have a reason not to.”_

            A small voice inside of him told him to do something, but what? Belle was a grown woman. She had made her choice. He couldn’t tell her the truth about his feelings. He’d been burnt far too many times in that department, and he had no indications that she had feelings for him. No woman of Belle’s caliber would want him. The kiss was brought on by wine and nerves.

            Still, it was hard to tell his heart that.

            Three weeks before the big day and it was time for Belle’s final fitting. He’d shared with Belle his plans for her dress, but Greg had thrown out his own ideas. In the end, Gold had gone with his gut. Greg may have insisted on the guest list and orchids instead of roses (Belle’s favorite), but he had designed this dress for Belle. If Greg didn’t like it then Greg could go to hell.

            He hadn’t shown Belle his designs, just sent in her measurements to the tailor along with his sketches. She hadn’t inquired much, but smiled and said those three words that were almost as good as three other words he yearned for, “I trust you.”

            He closed up his shop and set Belle’s dress on a mannequin tucked in the back. She came in right after lunch, bringing two cups of tea from Granny’s. “Gold?” she asked as she walked inside.

            “Close your eyes,” he instructed her. She gave him a suspicious look, but smiled and set their tea down on the counter and dutifully closed her eyes. He took her hand and led her to the back, the curtain rings scraping against the rod as he shoved it aside.

            “Okay, open your eyes,” he told her.

            Belle blinked them open and then let out a gasp. It was his finest design, only the best for her. He’d gone with a form fitting bodice that flared into an A line skirt. There was lace on the bodice with just a touch of sparkle in the beadwork. It was set off of the shoulder with lace sleeves that dipped into a low back. It was elegance, just a hint of boldness, with vintage charm, just like Belle.

            “Roderick,” she whispered, “It’s beautiful.”

            “Let’s see how it fits.”

            She dutifully stripped to her underwear and he struggled to keep his thoughts from dipping into dangerous territory. The dress fit her like a glove, showing off her marvelous curves, the ivory lace glowing on her skin. He had her stand in front of an antique full-length mirror so she could see it for herself.

            Gold swallowed over the lump in his throat as he set the veil in her hair so she could see the full effect. She was so glorious, even more beautiful than a model in a bridal magazine. This was Belle’s wedding dress, what he’d always known she would want. It killed him to know that this day had finally come.

            “You’re a vision,” he said.

            “It’s so amazing,” she said with tears shining in her eyes, “But…Greg wanted something more modern.”

            The final thread holding back his feelings snapped violently like a cable holding a bridge. “To hell with him,” he hissed, “This is _your_ dress. If he wants something modern then he can wear it himself.”

            “But…”

            “Why are you marrying him? You’ve been letting him control this entire wedding even though he’s hardly lifted a finger for it. This isn’t like you, Belle. I’ve seen happier widows at funerals than you are with this wedding.”

            “That’s not…it’s not…” she stammered over her words, a tear slipping down her cheek.

            “Belle,” he said her name softly now, “Why? Just answer me why?”

            She looked down towards her shoes and wiped away the wet streak on her cheek. “I have to,” she said, “Greg is a good man. He’ll take care of me…and my father.”

            “Because he’s rich?”

            “Partly,” she answered, “Papa has a lot of debts and he wants to make sure I’m settled. He likes Greg a lot. He’s been telling me practically since we started dating that Greg was perfect for me. So when Greg asked…I couldn’t say no.”

            “But Belle…is that enough of a reason to marry him?”

            She met his eyes with the mirror. “I don’t have a better reason to say no.”

            It was on the top of his tongue to tell her everything, that he loved her, that he would provide for her, to marry him instead. Oh the words beat at his breast, begging to be released, but he couldn’t say them. He wanted Belle to be happy. He didn’t think Greg could do that, but could she really be happy with him? He’d married a woman once who didn’t love him. If Belle left him for someone else, he wouldn’t survive it.

            They last few days of the wedding came together smoothly, but there was now a brick wall firmly between him and Belle. The day was in sight and he couldn’t sleep, thinking about how soon she would be Greg’s wife. Millions of thoughts ran through his head. Should he have asked her out years ago? What would she have said? Probably would have politely said no and then the awkwardness between them now would have been felt then. It was far too late now, but he couldn’t help but wonder and curse himself for being such a coward.

            The rehearsal went fine, other than Greg’s bestman, Killian, squeezing Ruby’s ass as she walked down the aisle prompting the waitress to kick him in the shin. Hopefully he wouldn’t be doing that again. The dinner was held at _Bella Note_ , full of the usual overpriced fare and chitchat about the big day. He saw Ruby with a roll ones so he suspected that she had some bachelorette party planned. Belle deserved one last night of fun; he knew that. Still, he hated every moment knowing that this was the end.

            He said little to anyone other than a reprimand to the waiter for failing to chill the wine properly. That was when Belle pulled him aside with that sweet smile of hers and put one hand on his shoulder. “Everything is fine, Callum,” she said gently.

            “I just want it all to be perfect for you.”

            “I don’t need that. I just want everyone to enjoy themselves.” She nibbled on her lip for moment and looked at him through her lashes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

            “I’ve never cared for these things,” he said, which was the truth, though only a small part of it.

            “Belle? Where are you?” he heard Ruby call for her, “We’ve got important things to do tonight.”

            “I do believe your kidnappers are ready for you,” he said, giving her a wan smile.

            Belle nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            He could watch her walk down the aisle tonight, dance with her fiancé, and share champagne with them in front of her friends. He could plan and create this wedding for her, down to the last detail, but there was one thing he knew in his heart he could never do.

            “No,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Belle, but I can’t.”

            She frowned at him. “What?”

            “Belle!” Ruby shouted, but was ignored.

            “I can’t watch you do this,” he said, “I wish you all the best, my dear, but I can’t.”

            “Why?” she asked with tears in her eyes.

            A part of him wanted to tell her the truth. The words _“because I love you!”_ beat at the back of his throat, but he swallowed them back. “Because I have a reason not to.”

            He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Good bye, Belle. I hope you are very happy.” He walked away, leaving Ruby to find her and bring her to whatever debauched plans she had for her.

            So he found himself at his shop, listening as the last bell rang its solemn note. The service would be over in a half an hour if the priest did his job right. There was a slight urge in him to do the cliché thing from the movies, kick open the door and scream out “I object!” like a lovesick fool. He wouldn’t do that to Belle. If Greg was what she wanted then he wouldn’t deny her any happiness, even if it made him miserable.

            The tingle of the bell on the door of his shop filled him with rage. Why didn’t the universe just let him suffer in solitude? “We’re closed,” he snarled without turning around, “Turn around and get out of my shop, dearie.”

            “Calum.”

            Gold put all of his weight on his bad leg, nearly falling to the ground. He whirled around, his heart leaping in his chest. Belle was standing there in the gown he’d designed for her. Her makeup was perfect, the veil cascading down her back, looking every inch a model bride. But this wasn’t right. She was supposed to be at the church, saying “I do” to Greg.

            “Belle,” he gasped out her name, “What are you doing here?”

            She bit her lip and smoothed her hands on the skirt of her bridal gown. “I…I lied.”

            “What?”

            “I lied to you before,” she explained, “I do have a better reason to say no.”

            Gold tilted his head, his brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say a word.

            “I was going to say no to him before,” Belle explained, “It was on the tip of my tongue, but my father was there, and I just couldn’t. I was going to break it off gently. Then when you…you never told me…I wanted you to say something, to tell me to end it with Greg. I thought maybe you felt the way I do, but then maybe I was wrong. Then I thought maybe it was better to marry Greg, at least for my father’s sake. I thought if you didn’t feel the same way that I do, then I really didn’t have a reason to say no.”

            “Belle,” he whispered. This couldn’t be real. He was dreaming. Surely any moment his alarm clock would sound and he would curse the gods for doing this to him.

            “But yesterday, you said you couldn’t come because you had a reason,” Belle continued, walking closer to him, “Please, just tell me what that is. If you don’t…I can go now and we never have to speak of it, but please, I need to know now before it’s truly too late.”

            He didn’t know if this was real. He couldn’t quite believe it himself. However, he did know that dream or not, he couldn’t deny her this. He should have spoken up before, but his cowardice had silenced his tongue. What did he have to lose now?

            “I love you.” There, those words were finally said.

            The silence that stood between then seemed like a wall. Would it crumble now or would it grow taller? She looked down for a moment, and he was certain his heart would forever sink into the dirt. When she looked back at him there were tears shining in her eyes and her lips were set in a smile. He barely had the moment to piece it all together when she pressed her mouth to his.

            He was too stunned to do anything at first, but his arms went around her of their own accord. She pulled away briefly to whisper against his lips, “I love you too.” She bit her lip, looking down again. “I should have said something before.”

            “I should have too,” he confessed.

            “It seems we’re both fools.”

            “Then let’s promise to never be so foolish again.” He pulled her back so he could kiss her again, burying his fingers into her hair and ruining her updo, but neither cared.

            Somehow, they moved out of the shop and into the back room. Belle had slipped off his jacked and was already unbuttoning his shirt. Apparently, she had decided they had wasted too much time being fools in the past. He wondered if they were going too fast, but when she slipped her hand inside lightly traced one of his nipples with her nails, his concerns evaporated. Gold growled into her mouth and started tearing at the buttons on the back of her gown, a few popping loose and rolling on the ground.

            “You’ll ruin the gown you designed,” she said breathlessly.

            “To hell with it,” he said. He would design her a better one when it was their time to marry. He’d like to send this torn dress to Greg, just to show the man what he lost by not paying attention to the jewel he had.

            Despite their haste, it was laughable trying to get Belle out of her dress. There were so many layers that the floor was littered with ivory fabric by the time they were done. He didn’t care. It was like unwrapping the most beautiful present he had ever seen. He was not as flattering on his own body, but Belle did not recoil from the sight. When she ran her hands over his chest, dipping down towards the bulge in his pants, he was certain he was going to wake up and discover this was all a fantasy. That or die in the sweetest way imaginable.

            She pushed him down into his chair, straddling his waist, before reaching down to position him at her entrance. She sank down on him slowly, her eyes fluttering while he struggled to keep himself from ending this all too soon.

            Neither moved for a long while, just savoring the feeling of finally being together. They kissed and touched until finally the need to move became too great. He put his hands on her waist, while she used his shoulders so they would move together. It was slow, gentle, a need to explore rather than a race to the finish. Belle let out soughs and then low moans with each thrust. He never wanted this to end, but he was desperate to see her come undone. He could feel her walls tightening around him, and he knew she was close. He slipped one hand down to find her clit and gently touched it with his thumb.

            Belle let out a cry, her eyes squeezing shut, her fingers digging into the skin of his arms so hard they left indentions, but he didn’t care. He forced himself to keep his eyes open the entire time so he could see her as she came. Only then did he finally let himself go, letting his vision go white with his own pleasure.

            They held each other for a while as their hearts slowed and bodies cooled. There was so much to be done now. Certainly Greg would be furious, likely her father too. Gifts would have to be returned, money exchanged for services never rendered, but none of that mattered. They had a better reasons for being together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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